


Minding

by imorca



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Caryl, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/M, Holding Hands, Mistletoe, Prison setting, Season 3, Winter Solstice
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-14
Packaged: 2018-09-24 10:58:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,615
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9720701
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imorca/pseuds/imorca
Summary: Traplines, the winter solstice, and missing the ability to imagine that comes with the "magical" time of year.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the USS-Caryl's "First winter/holidays-themed" fanfiction challenge. Originally published on ff.net on May 5, 2015.
> 
> Disclaimer: Copyright for The Walking Dead belongs to AMC, et al. My writing belongs to me, as do errors.

She had helped him set the trap lines so it seemed natural she should help him check them for the first go around. Carol had near insisted that he teach her how to set the snares that they had decided to place out along the stream and out through the woods surrounding the prison. Her logic made sense: everyone needed to train themselves with the skills others had. And Daryl's skills were the most rare and the most useful. Once she felt confident that she could handle resetting and checking on her own, she would train the next person.

Daryl felt a twinge of regret that he wouldn't always be the one minding the lines. He knew that didn't make much sense. Given how often he was out on supply runs, or picking up survivors, he couldn't always be around to do it all, but he liked having reason to be out beyond the fences every day. Minding the lines was an excuse to get some time to himself. He was honest enough to admit that he also liked being trusted with the things only he knew how to do.

"We're almost out of light already," Carol called to him from where she knelt. Some wiley creature had tripped a snare but not gotten caught so she was deftly untangling and resetting it.

"Yeah. If I's figured right it's prob'ly the solstice t'day. Maybe t'morra."

Carol rose and dusted her palms against her thighs, stepping carefully and moving to catch up with where he stood squinting up at the gathering dark that was quickly chasing the sun down into the west as its last fiery rays filtered through the trees.

"You think? Wow. Shortest day of the year. That would mean…Christmas in a couple of days…if we were counting."

"S'pose. I never really went in fer any of that."

She was beside him now. Georgia had done what it often did in what they used to call December. It was warm enough when the sun was out that an extra shirt layer was about all that was required. There had been frost several weeks prior, but since then "winter" was hardly different than "fall" or a cool "summer" day. Once the sun was fully down, however, it could get cold.

"Well, if you never had children in the house it was easier not to pay attention to all that. It was always hard to avoid all the commercials and the decorations everywhere though."

"Pffft. Just a bunch 'a mess that piled up in th' landfill's all."

She laughed low and made an affirming sound. "Can't argue with that. Seemed to get more ridiulous every year." She signed then, almost wistful. "I guess the thing I do miss is the -," she paused, and he looked over waiting. She had tilted her head back and seemed to be searching for something. Carol had one arm crossed beneath her breasts, her fingers captured in the crook of the opposite elbow. The other hand was playing at her throat as she gazed to the sky where the stars were starting to peek and twinkle.

"Oh, I don't know what you'd call it. The dream? The wonder? You know…the thing about the way things used to be where you could forget the bad for a bit?" She made a sound between a huff and amusement. "Gah! I know that's stupid now. I mean, things were never like that really, at least in my life. But, you know, it was nice that there were moments when pretty lights and special music and television shows could take you away from it for a few hours. I didn't mind having an excuse to - to pretend, just a little, once a year."

She looked over and met his eye. Shaking her head she dropped her gaze and started moving away. "Shortest day of the year. We'd better move back in before something ugly takes notice of us out here."

Daryl watched her walk. He knew what she meant. There wasn't much left now that let anyone escape the full-on ugliness of reality as it stood. Even if you could manage not to see the wreckage of the world around you for a moment, or if you could turn away from the shambling corpses of fallen humanity and shield yourself, you would still hear them. Even if you could manage to find a bit of silence in this place they had tried to secure, there was nothing you could do to escape the smell of the world now. The stench of rotting flesh permeated everything. And even if it didn't, the sense memory of it made you think it did.

He stepped forward to follow her. They didn't do celebrations. Or at least they hadn't. It seemed almost more depressing to give a half-hearted attempt than to just move past. They did try to make things better for one another, and to find small joys. Beth's cell now held a motley collection of odd items that made them all smile. It seemed that the entire community secretly held out for the chance that a scavenging party would find Judith a new dress or a stuffed toy. And the day they'd figured out the shower rig had been damn near to a party.

But mostly it was a constant concentration: minding every detail every minute of every day. If you didn't mind you were a goner. One false step, one lapsed moment and you or somebody you cared about was gone. No day-dreaming, no pretending, very little relaxing…just the constant grinding fullness of hard reality.

There was a pang in his chest as he realized that he wished he could give that to her: a moment where she could imagine again. That was the precious thing she missed - that they all missed. In a way he knew they sort of shared that together already. He wasn't that clueless. They might not be quite together yet, but he felt hope with her. He was sure he saw it reflected in her eyes, too. But this thing she mentioned was something different. It wasn't about _them_ , but about their _world_.

"Hey, wait a minute. I, ah, wanna show ya somethin'."

She stopped and turned to him, one eyebrow raised in curiosity, that tiny smile he liked so much edging up the corner of her mouth. "Yeah? What's that?"

"Just, c'mon," he said as he motioned with his head into the woods a bit off their path. He lead her toward a sizable oak that stood leafless despite the weather. It was the length of sunshine, not the heat, that controlled the foilage shedding. He nodded upward. "What do you see?"

Stepping up and placing her hand against the rough bark of the trunk, Carol tipped up her chin and surveyed the branches. Slowly she circled around, taking in the full view. "Hmmm. It looks like there is some greenery on this one still, but…it's not oak leaves."

"Yer right."

"Are those berries?"

"Yep."

"That's strange. Is that - no, that's not…is it?"

"What do you think it is?"

"It looks like mistletoe."

"That's right."

"Seriously? It's growing on an oak tree?"

"Sure is. It's a parasite. Birds eat the berries and then shit 'em out. The stuff grows into trees and lives on th'sap."

"I had no idea!"

"Don't usually kill it, 'less is a real bad case. This stuff'll mosty make ya sick, but out west there's a kind that the tribes use to make medicines."

She looked over at him, then back up to the tree in surprise and wonder.

"The old ways used ta say it was a cure fer barrenness in cattle. S'prob'ly were the whole kissin' thing came from. 'Course, that's all bullshit." Despite himself he felt a blush coming on as she turned to him with that twinkle in her eye she had when she was about to tease him.

"Is it, now?"

"Hey. Don't ya start, nothin'."

"Who? Me?"

"Yeah, you!"

"But what am I to think?" She had circled the trunk again and was leaning around it to peek at him, flashing a wicked smile. "You bringing me over here and all?"

He looked at her out of the tops of his eyes and shuffled his feet. He loved and hated this in equal measure. "Pfft. Just thought you'd like to see it. 'Cause it would be Christmas, 'er whatever, soon."

Her smile warmed, then, from wicked to sweet, and he was both relieved and disappointed. "I did," she said as she moved out from behind the tree and looked up to the branches again. "It's fascinating! I didn't know we had mistletoe in Georgia. Is it an invader, like kudzu? Is that why it's a parasite?"

"Nope, it's native. Grows mostly in the south, but some up in here, too. Even had a state park named after it, y'know, before? Nice little set up of cabins there. Would'a been located pretty isolated, but near to water and game. Somebody's prob'ly settled in if they're lucky."

She came to stand beside him. "I wonder."

"Yeah."

He wasn't looking at her, but he felt her hand on his. "Thank you, Daryl. This makes it kind of special, knowing it's out here."

He wasn't quite sure what to do with it, but he let her hand rest in his. "Is it? I don't have a lot, but sometimes there's somethin'."

"Oh, I disagree."

"Huh?"

"I think you have a lot."

And he felt her head rest on his shoulder lightly. And he felt the rhythm of her breathing as she rested there, minding the mistletoe with him.


End file.
